


Just When I Was Falling

by TeddysHoney



Category: Glee
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dalton Blaine, Freshman Blaine, M/M, McKinley Kurt, Season One Blaine, Season One Kurt, Sophomore Kurt, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25904704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeddysHoney/pseuds/TeddysHoney
Summary: When the counselor catches Kurt looking at a pamphlet about depression, she gives him a website to visit where he can chat anonymously with other students who have been bullied. A reluctant Kurt signs up and makes his first post which launches him into an online friendship with someone he'd really like to know in person. And, maybe someday, he will.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 12
Kudos: 26
Collections: Glee Fanfiction Friday 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, do you ever have a moment when you want to write a one-shot and your muse insists that you dig up an old fanfic that you started before you met your best fandom friend and started a whole new adventure with her instead? Well, that's exactly what happened to me this week. I saw the prompt for the second Glee Fanfiction Friday and started thinking about what I wanted to write. My muse insisted that we dig this story up and have a go. And, if you're familiar with my writing at all, you'll know that me and my muse refuse to do anything half-assed. So, I'm posting part of the story today, and I hope to update it regularly over the next week. This story will follow some of the major storylines that affected Kurt in season one while giving us some backstory into Blaine over season one through their meeting in season two. From there, it will diverge from canon just a bit, but you'll see when we get there. The plan, for now, is for the story to end in 02x16.
> 
> Throughout the story, I have used lines from canon, so this is my disclaimer: If it sounds like it's from the show, it probably is. In that case, I don't own it; I'm just borrowing it for my story. :)

Kurt walked down the hall, eyes cast down and bag hanging loosely from one shoulder. He was feeling especially down. The fact that he'd been at this school for an entire year and still felt as alone and isolated as ever was weighing heavily on him.

Just as he was beginning to consider how unfair that felt, he was shoved hard into the lockers, the books he'd been carrying spilling onto the floor. He vaguely heard something about “fag.” Out of habit, he heard himself mumble, “Sorry,” and he instantly regretted it. Hurt and anger flashed through him at almost the same moment, and he whirled around to see who'd pushed him.

Two jocks, who bullied him regularly, were leering over their shoulders at him, proud of what they'd done. The looks on their faces made him even angrier, and he spat, “Hope I didn't make you late for Remedial Math!”

Karofsky, one of the bullies that seemed to get the most pleasure from Kurt's pain, stomped back to him, drawing himself up as tall as he could. His friend, Puck, followed closely. “What was that?” they growled, arms crossed.

“Nothing,” Kurt replied quietly, suddenly feeling quite small and not at all brave. “I just—I just said I was sorry.”

The bullies seemed satisfied with his answer and turned tail, laughing about something as they went.

Kurt heaved a sigh and knelt to gather his belongings from the ground. Just as he reached for his science notebook, however, another set of tennis shoes kicked it just out of reach.

Glancing up, he rolled his eyes at the pair who were sniggering as they strolled into their next class. Everyone here was the same; they all seemed to love bringing him down. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he’d come to school and didn't feel sad and alone.

_ Come to think of it _ , he mused as he rose and began to walk down the hallway again,  _ when was the last time I felt anything at all? At home or at school? _ His mom used to tell him he was a happy kid, so full of life. “Don't ever lose that,” she'd tell him. But, that was years ago, and the memory of what being happy felt like died and faded along with his mother. Even if he felt like he could be happy, Kurt had no idea where or how to begin.

As he trudged down the hallway, a small table laid with brightly colored pamphlets caught his eye. One, in particular, drew him to the table, a black and blue cover with the words, “Ending It All” in red across the top. He'd wondered before if anyone would ever notice if he “disappeared.” He ran his finger over the cover, steadying himself for a moment before picking it up. A flash of guilt washed over him for even having that thought. But, he pushed it away quickly; he should never feel guilty for feeling anything, he reminded himself.  _ Emotions are meant to be felt. _

Opening the pamphlet, he let his eyes run over the info on the inside panel, not really processing anything. He was about to focus on reading the first line when a cheery female voice from behind him gave him a start.

“Can I help you?” it asked.

Kurt whirled around, taking in the thin, red-headed female in front of him with one sweep of his eyes.  _ Quirky fashion style, quiet voice. _ Not someone he felt comfortable spilling his guts to. “Oh! N-no,” he stammered. “I-I'm sorry. I just, just made a wrong turn.”As he spoke, he tried to gently push the pamphlet he'd been reading back onto its stack; no need to bring attention to that part of his mental process.

“What's your name?” the woman asked.

“Kurt Hummel.” Why did he tell her that?

“Hi, Kurt,” she smiled warmly, reaching to shake his hand. “I'm Miss Pillsbury, the guidance counselor.”

_ Great _ , Kurt thought.  _ Another adult who will pretend to care. _ He shook her hand anyway.

“Are you new to this school?” she asked.

“Um, no. I'm a sophomore.”

Miss Pillsbury's face paled a bit.

_ Probably from embarrassment _ , Kurt thought.

“That's awkward,” she said. Then, she brightened. “But, if you ever need anything, my door is always open.” Taking a spray bottle from the pocket of her atrocious green sweater, she sprayed some on her hands, counting as she did.

Kurt frowned, watching her. Now her behavior was odd, too. He was so wrapped up in watching her, he missed part of what she was saying.

“...during regular school hours. And I take vacation. I try not to eat into my sick days be--”

“It was nice meeting you,” Kurt interrupted. This counselor was crazy, and he wanted out of there. Now. He began to walk away, back in the direction he'd come from.

“Yeah, it was nice meeting you,” Miss Pillsbury said, watching Kurt's back for a moment. Then, she turned back toward her office, ready to go in and set to work on cleaning her grapes. There was only an hour until lunch, and she wanted everything to be clean in advance in case that cute Spanish teacher, Will Schuester, happened to walk past her office again that day. Just as she was about to step inside, though, her eyes flitted to the table of pamphlets. Something was out of place.

She gasped when she was that the “Ending It All” stack was askew. That must have been the one Kurt was looking at. “Kurt!” she called, hurrying off down the hallway after his quickly disappearing form.

Upon hearing his name, Kurt sped up just a little, but it was to no avail. Dodging other students in the hallway slowed him down.

“Kurt!” she said again, frantically. Finally, she caught up to him, grabbing him by the upper arm as she stopped to catch her breath.

Kurt turned to her with wide, uncertain eyes, his textbooks and notebook hugged to his chest. He said nothing, just stared at her, waiting.

“Phew,” she said when she'd managed to slow her breathing, “I didn't think I was going to be able to catch you; you were going so fast.” She let his arm go and smoothed down her skirt as she counted each stroke, “One, two, three, four, five.” Then, she straightened her jacket and looked up at Kurt. “Right,” she said, as if just remembering what she'd raced down the hallway to do. “I'd like you to come back to my office, Kurt. I want to talk with you abou--”

“I don't really think I have time now,” Kurt said, shrinking back against the lockers. “I'm already late for class.”

“Oh, sure you do, silly,” Miss Pillsbury beamed. She started back down the hall toward her office, beckoning for Kurt to follow her.

With a sigh, he did. He wasn't sure he had to, but he didn't want to risk anyone calling his dad over this. Burt was a good father, but he had a lot on his plate; Kurt didn't want to give him one more thing to worry about.

As they walked, Miss Pillsbury was talking a mile a minute. “As I was saying earlier, emotions don't take a break. They're always there. That's why my door is always open, at least during school hours. On the days that I'm here. But, not during my lunch breaks. Then, my door is closed. Students aren't allowed in when the door is closed.” She paused as if lost. Then, she shook herself a bit and kept talking. “I can give you a pass for your class. Teachers will accept a pass from the counselor. They didn't used to, but Principal Figgins said I could write passes. Take a seat,” she gestured, plopping down in her chair behind her desk. She held her hands up by her shoulders, looking very much like a surgeon who had just washed their hand, careful not to touch anything, for a second as she looked at her desk's surface as though unsure before reaching for the hand sanitizer and pumping out three generous pumps. Then, she busied herself with rubbing it in, being sure to clean around and under her fingernails carefully as well as rubbing each finger and palm repeatedly.

This took several minutes, and Kurt just sat, a little dazed and confused, watching her, his books still hugged close to his chest.

Finally, Miss Pillsbury looked up at him again and flashed him her biggest smile. “So, I wanted to talk to you about this,” she said, producing the pamphlet he'd picked up just a few minutes earlier. “Is this how you feel?” she asked, concern written on her features.

“Um, well, I--” Kurt fidgeted, eyes studying his lap. “I, um...”

Miss Pillsbury raised her hand. “You don't have to say anything else,” she soothed, reaching into a drawer in her desk. “That was all the answer I need.” When her hands appeared on top of the desk again, there were two items in her hands, one postcard-sized and one a thicker folder. “I want you to have these,” she said, sliding them across the desk to him.

Kurt leaned forward a bit to look at them. “What are they?” he asked.

“This one,” she said, indicating the thick folder, “is a list of all the clubs that we have here at McKinley and information about how to join them. Sometimes, when you're dealing with these types of...” she trailed off for a moment, thinking, “...emotions, it can be hard to make friends. So, if you'd like to get involved with a club, this lists all of them! I've also listed the club sponsors. Oh!” She grabbed the folder back from the edge of the desk, snatching up a pen and scribbling something onto the inside of the front cover. “I almost forgot. Mr. Schuester, the Spanish teacher, is bringing back the Glee Club.” She smiled and handed the folder back to Kurt.

“What's this?” Kurt asked, nodding toward the postcard-sized sheet on the desk as he added the folder to the stack of books in his arms.

“This is a website for bullied teens. It's like a giant chat room where you can talk to other kids just like you; the goal is for you to be able to share advice, find a friend, or simply share your story and receive encouragement. And,” she added with a smile, “there are plenty of gay students to help you with--”

“I'm not gay!” Kurt cut in, anxious to get that thought out of her head. No matter what he thought he might be, he didn't want anyone spreading things about him before he was ready. When the counselor just gave him a confused look, he repeated himself. “I—I'm not gay.”  _ Yeah, way to sound confident, Hummel. _

“Oh...I'm sorry.” Miss Pillsbury was a little surprised. “I—I just thought...your clothes and...” She decided not to finish her thought.

“Well, I'm not,” Kurt told her firmly. “And there's nothing wrong with a man being fashion-forward.”

Miss Pillsbury decided not to respond to that. Instead, she gestured at the postcard. “I really think you should give that a shot. It's password-protected by the involved schools, so no one can get on without school counselor approval. It protects you from cyberbullies.” She smiled at him again.

Kurt wondered if she ever got tired of smiling, especially since the smiles she'd been giving him were wide and seemed fake. He took the postcard off the desk and tucked it into the folder she'd given him, then rose from the chair, looking at the counselor expectantly. When she made no move to do anything else, he asked, a hint of irritation in his voice even as he studied the floor, “My pass to my class?”

“Oh, yes! Right!” she exclaimed, reaching for the pass pad at the edge of her desk. She took her time writing the pass, then handed it to him.

Kurt adjusted everything he was carrying and made for the door heaving a sigh.  _ Great _ , he thought.  _ Now someone will make fun of me for being late. _

“Just try the website, Kurt,” Miss Pillsbury implored as he left her office. “I think something good will come out of it for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of Kurt's day was not really any better than the beginning. It was a day of constant bullying, and by the time the final bell rang, he was ready to go home, take a soothing bath, and have a good cry.

And, he did just that. When he walked in the door, he wasted no time in drawing a nice bath in the soaking tub his father had installed for him on his last birthday. He threw in a lavender bath bomb, popped on the  _ Moulin Rouge _ soundtrack, and lay back in the tub. He could feel some of the stress beginning to leave his body, and he thought to himself,  _ That crazy counselor was wrong. _ He didn't need some club or more friends or a chat website to help him. He could cope just fine on his own.

After his bath, he put on some comfortable clothes and sat down at his sewing machine to work on his latest piece. It was something he wanted to wear for a number he planned to record and put on MySpace. As a bit of an afterthought, Kurt brought his laptop over to his sewing desk and put in an old musical after shutting off his music.  _ There. _ That would make for a perfect afternoon until he needed to make dinner.

About 20 minutes before he thought he would start dinner prep, however, Kurt heard the screen door in the kitchen snap shut. A few moments later, he heard the door at the top of the stairs open, and his father's heavy footfalls made their way down. Quickly, he leaned over and tapped the space bar to pause the movie. His dad always commented on this choice of entertainment, but maybe if it wasn't playing, he wouldn't notice. Trying not to feel nervous, he went back to his project as he listened to the footsteps come to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.

“Kurt?” came his father's rough voice.

“Yeah, Dad?'

“What are you working on?”

“A—a project. For a project I want to do.”

“For school?”

“No. No, just for me.”

“Oh.” There was a long pause. Then, “I got a call from the counselor today. She thinks you're depressed or something.”

At that, Kurt stopped the sewing machine, turning to make eye contact with his dad. “What? I'm not depressed.”

“She said you were looking at some suicide brochure at school today.”

“I—I was. But, Dad, I'm not suicidal. I was just...looking.”

“That's not a very solid excuse, kid.”

“I'm fine, Dad. She's...she's just overreacting.” He had been right to feel nervous. This was terrible!

“Look, Kurt, I don't want to talk about this any more than you do.”

“Okay? You do your thing; I’ll do mine.”

“But you're all alone down here most of the time. You don't have any friends.”

“You don't understand. School is...very complicated for me.” Kurt didn't think his dad would ever understand that, honestly. There were a lot of things about him his dad would never understand.

Burt ran a hand across the back of his neck. “I was a teenager; I get the pressure. Making friends. That's why I joined the football team.”

“You want me to join the football team?”

“Look, I'm not asking here, Kurt. This is an order. By the end of this week, I want you on a team, or I'm taking away the sewing machine.”

Kurt opened his mouth to protest, but Burt was already headed back up the stairs.

“You can get started on dinner in about half an hour. I'm going to take a shower.”

Kurt sighed, turning back to his laptop. His finger hovered over the space bar. He didn't really feel like watching his movie any more. He didn't really feel like doing anything. He just wanted to go to bed and not think about joining a club where everyone was going to make fun of him or ignore him and nothing would change.

Reluctantly, he put his sewing project away and switched off the movie. He was about to turn off his laptop completely, but he noticed the postcard sticking out of the top of his backpack. Quickly, he grabbed it and typed in the web address for the school chat room that was written on the card.

He couldn't think too much about it. If he did, he was going to chicken out. Quickly, he typed in the login information, and a new screen popped up, prompting him to choose his username from the list below or to create a new one. He thought for a moment. What could he call himself that wouldn't be a dead giveaway to any bully that might happen to end up on the site? He glanced around his room, hoping something would inspire him.

His eyes landed on a notebook that he kept back by his bed. It was the one he wrote in at night before going to bed. His latest project was a play about Pippa Middleton that he had fondly titled  _ Pip Pip Hooray _ . He wasn't very far with it, but he was in love with his idea; just looking at the notebook made him smile.

Quickly, he typed  _ Pip.Pip.Hooray!  _ into the box. Then, he typed in his go-to password and clicked  _ Submit _ . Instantly, the page changed, showing a long list of posts and their comments. At the top, the page said, “Welcome, Pip.Pip.Hooray!”

Kurt scrolled through the list of posts, noting a few of the titles dealt with gay bullying. There were several comments on these posts, and the top comment showed up underneath each post. Many of the comments were full of encouragement and words of support. It was all very sweet. Maybe too sweet. Looking at the comments was making him feel ill. Hurriedly, he logged out and scurried up the stairs to start dinner, ready to get the chat website off of his mind. He wasn't really sure why he'd even gotten on in the first place. He was making it okay on his own, and now, he had to join a club.  _ Great. _


	3. Chapter 3

If Blaine Anderson was being honest with himself, he was probably the happiest he'd ever been. He'd finally gotten out of that hellhole of a school he'd been forced to go to junior high in, and he was now a Dalton Academy Warbler.

He sat in the back of his math class, fiddling with his pen. He was supposed to be taking notes, but he wasn't listening to a word the teacher was saying. The Warblers had just announced that he was going to be the lead vocalist for their sectionals competition! This was practically unheard of. A freshman newbie, after one audition, had landed himself a spot as the leading man. Blaine wasn't even thinking about the animosity this could cause with some of the veteran Warblers, and, frankly, he wasn't sure that he cared. After all the crap he'd been put through in the last few years, he deserved to be on top of the world for once.

“...Mr. Anderson?”

Blaine snapped to attention. “I'm sorry?”

“Can you tell me what the answer to number three is?” his teacher asked in a clearly bored tone.

“Uh,” Blaine scrambled, trying to find where they were. He glanced sidelong at the boy next to him, trying to decipher if he was even on the correct page in their text book.

After a few moments, the teacher heaved a sigh. “It would serve you well to pay attention in my class, Mr. Anderson,” he deadpanned before turning back to the white board and going on with the lesson.

Blaine could feel his cheeks coloring a deep shade of red as the boy in front of him turned around in his seat, a wide grin on his face. Blaine recognized him from Warblers practice but didn't know his name.

“Mr. Anderson,” the boy mocked in a whisper.

Blaine gave him a sneer and turned toward the board, but today was not his day. Within a matter of minutes, he was daydreaming again, trying to decide what he wanted his first Warblers selection to be. The counsel had told all the freshmen that song choice was in the hands of the elected officials, but Blaine thought perhaps his position as lead Warbler would give him some credibility. He preferred to sing pop songs. They tended to fit his vocal range better, and they were sure to be crowd-pleasers. Maybe he could pick something by a female artist to really shake things up. Maybe—

“That will be a detention, Mr. Anderson,” the teacher called from the front of the room. “Report to the principal's office following your last period.”

“I'm...uh, I'm sorry,” Blaine fumbled. “I have Warblers practice after last period. Could I—um, could I be excused from detention?” He scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“If Warblers practice is something you want to do, you'll have to do it on your time, Mr. Anderson,” the teacher responded. “Unfortunately for you, after school today is still my time since you've chosen not to pay attention in my class.”

Blaine groaned. “Yes, sir,” he answered, knowing there was nothing else he could do. He was more upset about getting his first ever detention than missing Warblers practice. Barely more than a few weeks in and already he was getting into trouble.  _ Step it up, Anderson _ , he told himself as he gathered his things at the sound of the bell ringing.  _ You're not off to a great start. _

“Have fun in detention,” the boy that had mocked him earlier said as he pushed past him into the hall. “Guess someone else will have to sing lead today.”

_ I guess they really are mad _ , Blaine thought as he headed toward his next class, the last of the day before his detention.  _ Hopefully it blows over soon. I deserve this. _

_ *** _

Blaine pulled out his phone the moment he sat down in detention. There was officially nothing he could do; he had all his homework done already. He really wished he could be in Warblers practice, but he'd be there soon enough. The principal had agreed that since this was his first detention, he only had to serve a half an hour.

He lazily checked his texts and emails then went over to one of the library computers. He thought about logging into his social media, but decided against it, navigating instead to a website that he visited almost as much as Facebook.

This site was the one and only thing that he’d held on to from his old school. He didn't really want to remember any of the things that went on there, the bullying, the taunting, and the beating he'd taken at the last school dance he'd ever attended there. Dalton was definitely a great choice. But, if there was one thing he'd learned at his old school, it was that he was lucky and not everyone was. He'd gotten out of his awful school, but so many people were still facing daily bullying. So, he still checked the anti-bullying website his old school had shown him. He commented as much as he could in hopes that something he said could help them.

He grinned as “Welcome, C.O.U.R.A.G.E.” popped up in the corner of the screen. He'd chosen that name very carefully when he'd set up his account. It was the word his friend had told him just before they'd gone to the dance together that night. Though he and the boy weren't very close, it had meant the world to him at the time, helping to calm his nerves about the dance then and helping him work through the pain he was feeling later. Blaine began to read the newest posts, making a few comments of advice and encouragement until his half-an-hour detention ran out.

He logged out of the site and the computer quickly, grabbing his messenger bag and slinging it over his shoulder as he rushed down the hallway to Warblers practice. He could hear the loud sounds of singing before he could even see the choir room, and when he burst through the doors, he was blasted by a song. All the Warblers were lined up at the back of the room in two rows, and the senior member of the counsel, a blond named Michael, was leading them through the moves to a song they'd sung many times.

A huge grin grew on Blaine's face as he hurried to join them, stepping into line at the end of the front row and falling into step. Dancing came easily to him, and it made him happy.  _ Maybe that was another part of the reason they promoted me to the lead _ , he wondered to himself.

After the song ended, Michael raised a hand to keep everyone from talking at once. “Good job, Warblers,” he said, smiling at the group. “There were a few places we need to go over again, but we have something else to take care of now. Warbler Blaine, I'd like to see you front and center, please,” he said, the look on his face none too happy.

Blaine gulped and stepped forward, walking toward the front of the group and taking a place next to Michael.

“Where were you at the beginning of the rehearsal?” Michael asked sharply.

“Um, detention.” Blaine hung his head.

“I see. And what class did you get detention in?”

“Uh, math.”

Michael nodded and looked around the room before focusing back on Blaine. “Warbler Blaine, do you intend to continue in your position as lead singer for the Warblers?”

“Yes?” Blaine squeaked, not really sure where this question was going.

“See to it that you are not late to practice again,” Michael said. “Your tardiness does not set a good example for the rest of this group. As our leader, I'm sure you can understand that. Be aware, we voted you into this position, and we can vote to remove you if this behavior continues.”

“I—I understand,” Blaine mumbled, feeling properly ashamed of himself now. “It—it won't happen again.”

“Good man,” Michael said, clapping him on the shoulder and giving him a smile. “Now, I believe we need to take it from the top, about 16 bars in...”

Blaine paid close attention for the rest of practice, not wanting to miss a single thing and risk being removed from his position. This was honestly the first time he thought he might belong somewhere, and he didn't want to lose that to some foolish daydreaming.

After practice, as they were all leaving, several members of the group came up to Blaine with smiles and claps on the back. They were full of compliments about his talent and how glad they were that he was going to be leading them in competition. He felt like he was on top of the world. “You should join us at the Lima Bean,” someone told him. “We're going to get some coffee and talk about our sectionals competition!”

“Sounds great!” he said.

“You can ride with me,” said a chubby kid that had been singing in the back row. Blaine knew he was a fellow freshman.

_ I have really got to learn everyone's name _ , he chided himself as he flashed the chubby boy a smile. “Awesome! Thanks!” As he leaned over to grab his backpack off of the floor, he saw the boy from his math class approaching him.

“You won't last,” the boy sneered.

“Why are you bothering me?” Blaine hissed under his breath. He didn't want anyone else to overhear and step in. He could handle this himself.

“You think you're some kind of a hot shot?” the boy asked. “You're nothing. You're scum. You won't last.” And with that, he took off out of the room, heading the opposite way of everyone else.

Blaine stood still for a moment, trying his best to shake off what the kid had said. He'd received so many compliments from the rest of the group; it should be easy not to think about it. But for some reason, the boy's words seemed to bite him deeply, and Blaine couldn't quite figure out what it was about him that made him feel scared and small in the presence of that boy. He shook himself.  _ Get it together, Anderson _ , he told himself again.  _ He shouldn't bother you. Just shake it off _ . “Hey! Wait up!” he called to the chubby boy, jogging the few feet that separated them.

“Hi,” Blaine said when he caught up to him. “I'm Blaine.”

“I know who you are,” the boy snorted. “I'm Trent.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Do you know anything about him?” Blaine asked, jerking his head backwards towards the retreating form of the boy who had bullied him.

Trent looked over his shoulder and shuddered a bit. “Not a lot,” he said. “I'm a freshman, so I don't know a lot of these guys very well, but I do know that he,” he jerked his head back, “is a bully.”

“What's his name?” Blaine asked.

“Scott,” Trent said. “Or something like that.”

The two boys pushed their way out into the sunlight, and Blaine followed closely to his new friend.

“All I heard,” Trent continued, “is that he's been trying to be on the Warbler counsel since he was a freshman, but he keeps getting beaten out in the vote. I guess he's mad about that since his dad donates a ton of money to the school.” 

“Is he a senior?” Blaine asked as Trent pushed open the doors of the school and headed for his car.

“Nope. Junior, I think. So, he’s got one more chance at getting on the counsel next year. He tried out for lead singer, too, and lost out to you.”

“That explains why he’s being a bully,” Blaine muttered to himself. Apparently, he wasn’t quiet enough.

“He’s bullying you?” Trent asked, stopping dead in his tracks, causing Blaine to nearly run into him. “Dalton has a no bullying policy. You should report him to the headmaster.”

“I guess it’s not really bullying,” Blaine explained. “I mean, he’s only said something mean to me twice. I don’t think he’d, like, try to beat me up or anything.” Just mentioning taking a beating, however, made his heart start to pound and the blood rush in his ears. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, doing his best to hold himself together. He wasn’t going to cry. He was okay. He was safe here. He could do it.

Trent took a tentative step closer to Blaine, reaching out a gentle hand to rest lightly on the other boy’s shoulder.

Blaine flinched away from the hand instinctively, looking up with frightened eyes at Trent.

“Are you okay?” the other boy asked softly. “Do you need me to call someone?”

Blaine shook his head as he tried to remember the breathing techniques he’d learned. “No,” he finally managed. “I’ll be okay. I was just...remembering.”

“It happens to me, too,” Trent admitted softly. “I’m a transfer, too, actually. A lot of people come to Dalton  _ because  _ of their anti-bullying policy.”

“How do you know I’m a transfer?”

“I recognize trauma. You’ve been bullied hard, probably beaten up. It happens to a lot of us…”

“Are you gay, too?” Blaine questioned, not really realizing what he’d said until it was too late. He’d never admitted to anyone outside of his family and the boy that took him to his eighth grade dance that he was gay. He’d talked about it on the anti-bullying page from his old school, but that was the closest he’d ever come to coming out. So, he hurried to correct himself. “I-I mean, I-I--”

“It’s okay,” Trent said, giving him a reassuring smile. “I figured you were gay. And yes, I am, too. You’re actually the first person I’ve told here.”

“Um, yeah. Me, too,” Blaine admitted shyly, swiping his hand across the back of his neck. 

There was a moment of awkward silence between the two of them as they each wondered if they were supposed to say something or do something about this admission. Neither of them knew what to say; nothing really seemed appropriate, and they’d never met another person their own age who was actually gay. Finally, Trent broke the silence. “Come on. We’d better get going or everyone will be done with their coffee before we actually make it to the Lima Bean.”

“Yeah,” Blaine admitted, giving the other boy a small smile. 

“Come on. I’m the red Honda,” Trent said, pointing.

Blaine followed after him, mulling over his admission in his mind. He was glad he’d done it, he decided. It felt nice for someone else to know, someone that didn’t have to accept him because they loved him as a son or brother. He wasn’t sure if it would really change anything for him in the long run, and he didn’t plan on coming out to any of the other Warblers or his classmates any time soon, but it was nice to know. Maybe he and Trent could be friends, he thought as he climbed into the passenger seat of Trent’s car. Maybe, for the first time, he could have a friend that would know all his secrets without judging him.

***

At the Lima Bean, Blaine ordered his medium drip and sat at one of the large tables in the small coffee shop with the other Warblers. The older students sat around the table were very talkative, giving out their predictions for who would be competing against them at sectionals, what their biggest challenges were going to be during their non-competitive season, and what songs they thought the counsel would pick for sectionals. “Is there anything in particular you want to sing, Blaine?” one of them asked. “Since you are the lead singer.”

“Um…” Blaine stuttered, caught mid-drink. He really didn’t know if he wanted to admit his love for pop tunes, especially those traditionally sung by women, so he tried to come up with anything else. But he was blanking. So, instead of answering, he shrugged it off. "Hadn't really given it much thought."

"For a guy who sings like that, you're not very committed to your craft," one of the boys joked. 

"Come on," another one said. "You must have some kind of idea! What do you sing in the shower? The Warblers will sing just about anything."

Blaine gulped. "Uh…"

"Are you more of a Broadway guy? Classics? Pop? You don't like country, do you? We've tried that, and most songs just don't work acapella."

"No," Blaine said, wiggling uncomfortably. "I'm not in to country."

"Blaine's into rock and roll, I bet," one of the boys said.

Blaine recognized him as being on the Warbler counsel, so he smiled, pretending to play along. It was really important that everyone like him; if he didn't have that going for him, they might decide he wasn't worthy of the lead singer position. 

"Guys, maybe Blaine doesn't want to talk about his taste in music right now," Trent pointed out, smiling at Blaine from his seat across the table.

"I'm sorry," the boy from the counsel said. "I didn't catch your name." He extended his hand to Trent, waiting for the other boy to shake it. 

"I'm Trent," he replied calmly. "I'm a freshman transfer."

"And how do you know our Blaine?" the counsel member asked.

"We sort of just met on the way over here," Trent explained. "We have one class together outside of Warbler rehearsal."

Blaine felt guilty as Trent said that. He had no idea he shared a class with the other boy, but now he desperately wished they shared more. 

"So, you don't know Blaine well enough to speak for him?"

"I’d like to think we're friends," Trent replied cooley. 

"We are," Blaine butted in. "Friends, I mean. And, he's right. I don't want to talk about my taste in music right now."

"Well, Blaine," the counsel member said, turning his piercing blue eyes onto the lead singer, "if you're going to be a leader in this group, you're going to need to learn to speak your mind. No one will trust you if they don't know you."

Blaine swallowed hard. The counsel member's cold demeanor reminded him of some of the bullies at his old school; they'd acted like that toward him whenever a teacher was present. When they were alone, they'd bully him with fists and words. "I'll remember that," Blaine managed to say. "Trent, could you give me a ride back to school, please? I have some homework I'd like to do." He stood, hoping Trent would agree so he could get out of there.

"Sure," Trent said, standing and grabbing his coffee cup. "See you guys at practice tomorrow."

The whole table mumbled some sort of goodbye as the two boys walked out the door, headed for Trent's red car. 

"Thanks for taking me back," Blaine said when they were safely in the car on the road back to Dalton. "Sorry if you wanted to stay longer, but I just really needed to get out of there."

"It's no problem," Trent said, looking at Blaine out of the corner of his eye. "I guess the older members of the Warblers have it out for you. He wasn't very nice, either."

"I think they're jealous," Blaine admitted. "I can't blame them; I'd be upset, too, if I had been working hard for two or three years and got beat out of the top spot by a freshman." He sighed, looking out the window at the grassy hills they were flying past. "Maybe I should resign," he said quietly. "I'm beginning to wonder if being part of the Warblers just isn't for me."

"Do you like singing?" Trent asked.

"Yeah. I do it all the time."

"How about performing?"

"I'm not sure," Blaine admitted. "I've never had the opportunity to do it before; at my old school, I was too scared to join choir or the drama club."

"Well, as someone who watched you perform during your audition, I can tell you that you're an amazing performer. It seems to come naturally to you. You shouldn't give up on the Warblers over a few jealous douches. You're good at what you do, and you deserve the top spot."

"Thanks," Blaine said softly. He wasn't sure you believed Trent, but it was nice to hear someone compliment him like that. It didn't happen often. There was a long pause, and then he asked, "How did you get to be so sure of yourself? Doesn't the bullying that happened to you in the past still scare you?"

"Sure it does," Trent said. "I'm scared every day. But if there's one thing that being beaten to the point of being hospitalized twice teaches you, it's that you can't be afraid to live and be yourself. Life is too short to waste time being afraid."

"I wish I could think that way."

"You can." Trent tapped his temple. "It's all about training yourself to think like that. Changing one negative thought into a positive one can be all it takes."

Blaine smiled. "Thanks." They didn't speak the rest of the way back to the school, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. Blaine was thinking about all the things he wished he could change about himself, wondering if thinking positively could do the trick. He wasn't sure that would be enough, but he'd seen enough of Trent standing up for himself to know he wanted to try. As they pulled into the parking lot at Dalton, Blaine asked, "So, what class do we have together?"

"Algebra," Trent said. “I sit back in the back toward the far corner. I'm not surprised you don't see me."

"Well, I'm still sorry. I really need to be more observant."

"Do you want to work on our Algebra homework together? I usually study with a few other guys, but they're still all at the Lima Bean."

"Sure."

"You know, if you'd like, I think it would be fun to hang out more," Trent commented as they walked back into the school, after their backpacks that they'd left in the Warblers practice room. "I would like to know what types of music you like to sing."

Blaine grinned, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "I'd like that," he said. "And, I'm more of a pop guy. Katy Perry."

"Teenage Dream?" Trent asked.

"Yeah. It's one of my favorites."

"Mine, too. Wanna listen to it before we start studying? Maybe we could work on some moves to present to the Warbler counsel."

Blaine smiled, his heart giving a little leap. It seemed he'd finally, for once in his life, made a good friend. "Yeah," he said. "That sounds like fun!"


	5. Chapter 5

Kurt was really dreading going to school the next day. It wasn't that he didn't think he'd be able to join a club. It was mostly that he didn't want to. Most kids his age didn't understand him. They would give him funny looks when he talked about his favorite musical, no one ever understood his movie references, and any comment he made about someone's fashion sense was met with a disgusted sneer. He had found, over the last year and a half, that being around other kids just made everything harder, and he'd rather just avoid it. But he couldn't avoid it any more. Not with a threat like that from his father.

So, that afternoon, after grabbing his lunch, he scanned the lunchroom for somewhere to sit. Maybe if he could sit at the right table, he'd find a club he liked without having to look too hard. He spotted a table on the other side of the room that was mostly empty save for one girl and the posters she had spread out everywhere.  _ Someone with a lot of posters must be involved in a lot of things, right? _ So, he made his way toward her.

“May I sit here?” he asked, studying what lay on the table.

“Be careful with the posters,” she said. “They take 20 minutes each to make.”

“Okay.”  _ What an odd thing to say. Think of something to reply. _ His brain fumbled. “I see you're in the Speech Club,” he finally said lamely. 

“Speech Club, Renaissance Club, the Muslim Students Club, Black Student Union. It’s important for me to be immersed in all cultures. I’m an actress.”

Kurt furrowed his brow as he listened to the strange girl talk.  _ What is she doing in the Muslim Students Club and the Black Student Union? I’m positive she’s neither of those things.  _ At her mention of being an actress, however, he perked up. He knew he’d seen her somewhere before, and now, he knew where. “Oh, I know. I’ve seen your videos on MySpace,” he said happily. “You’re very talented.”

The girl stuck out her hand. “I’m Rachel Berry.” She didn’t meet his eyes, however. Instead, she stared with just a hint of disgust at his lunch tray sitting atop her posters.

Kurt took her hand, shaking it lightly. “Kurt Hummel.” He paused.  _ Think of something to say. Anything! Just think.  _ Glancing down at the poster she was currently applying colorful dots to, he said, “Well, perhaps I should join the Speech Club.” When she snapped her head up to give him a strange look, he hurried to add, “My-my dad’s making me join something. And, to be honest, I’ve also been toying around with a career in acting.” He had never told anyone that before, but, of course, he’d never really had a friend before. Maybe Rachel could be his friend?

“I’m not toying around with anything.” The look on Rachel’s face made Kurt lean away from her just slightly. She looked deathly serious and just the tiniest bit crazy, like if he said the wrong thing to her, she might snap and scratch his face like a cat. He didn’t need anyone messing up his perfect skin that he worked so hard to maintain. “The minute I graduate, I’m going directly to Broadway, and I’m never looking back.” She looked away from him, returning to dotting her poster. “Besides, you can’t join the Speech Club. It’s full.”

“Oh…” Kurt’s heart dropped. So much for that idea. Oh well. He’d just have to look somewhere else.

Just as he was thinking about picking up his tray and searching for a new, more isolated table, Rachel’s head snapped up, and she looked at him almost conspiratorially. “Can you carry a tune?”

“Yes.” Kurt felt his heart jump in his chest.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Because I don’t know if you’ve heard the good news, but the Glee Club is starting up again. It was really awful when that perv, Mr. Ryerson, was in charge, but Mr. Schue is taking it over now.”

She was talking so fast that it was difficult for Kurt to follow exactly what she was saying, and he concentrated very hard on listening, his eyes fixed on her face.

“He’s that really cool Spanish teacher who looks like an old Justin Timberlake. When he was in this school and he was in the Glee Club, they won nationals. Do you know how hard that is?”

She switched gears so fast that Kurt was sure he was going to get whiplash.

“I’m assuming you’re a contralto or a mezzo-soprano. We’ll explore your vocal range tomorrow after school. I’ll reserve the auditorium.”

The next few days were a whirlwind for Kurt. He went to sing with Rachel in the auditorium, and they performed one of his favorite songs from his favorite shows:  _ Popular  _ from  _ Wicked _ . For a moment, while he was singing with her, he’d thought there was a chance that they could be friends. Yes, she was singing about making him better, and she obviously had some very lofty goals for a high school sophomore, but maybe being around her and her confidence would rub off on him. However, when the song had ended, and he’d suggested they audition together, her response had shattered every one of his hopes. 

“Together?” she’d squawked. “I’m sorry, Kurt, it-it doesn’t work that way. When you look at the sky at night, what do you see?”

“Um...stars?” he’d mumbled, confused as to where she was going with this.

“Exactly. Some shine brighter than others, but they all shine on their own. I enjoyed singing with you today, and I look forward to doing it again. But when it comes to auditions, it’s every man for himself on this stage. Eat or be eaten. This is show choir.” Then, she’d flounced away, leaving Kurt to feel sad and as alone as always next to the piano on the empty auditorium stage.

He’d gone home that night feeling defeated. Why even bother to join a club when he couldn’t even make any friends before it had started. He even shared several interests with Rachel, but she’d refused to even consider auditioning with him. Was he really that bad? Those thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone that night as he worked on his sewing project, eager to get it finished before his dad inevitably took away his sewing machine. He was still thinking about it as he cooked dinner and before bed as he worked on  _ Pip, Pip, Hooray! _ He considered signing in to the chat room Ms. Pillsbury had shown him, but he didn’t know what to post. So, in the end, he shut his light off and went to bed feeling discouraged.

The feeling still hadn’t really left at school the next day. Rachel stopped him in the hallway long enough to tell him that the auditions were that afternoon, and he definitely needed to sign up. When he went to check the sign-up sheet, he found only Rachel’s name with a massive gold star sticker next to it. He quickly signed his name below it and walked away before anyone caught him doing it. He didn’t want his name on the sign-up sheet to scare anyone else away.

Kurt had a rare moment of bravado after his third period English class when he saw Mercedes Jones walking out of class just a few feet in front of him. He’d heard stories about her singing, about how she’d broken a window at her church when she’d hit a particularly high note. She was legendary, and it would be great for the tiny show choir if she’d join. “Miss Jones?” he called out to her hesitantly, hoping she wouldn’t just ignore him.

“That’s me,” she said, not turning around.

“I-I’m Kurt Hummel.”

“Mm-hmm. Kurt Hummel. And, what do you want?” She didn’t stop as she spoke, and she encouraged him to walk faster beside her. “We’re walking. We’re talking.”

He explained what he’d heard about her, about his desire to be like here.  _ And, where did that come from, Kurt? You’ve never thought that before. Brown-noser. _ Then, he had to explain to her that he did not want to join her church choir. Instead, he wanted her to join the Glee Club. For some extra spice, he added in a little plea, mentioning some names he knew she’d fall for. “Why wait for Sundays to be Aretha Franklin and Beyoncé and Donna Summer when you can do it every day, right here at William McKinley High School.” 

That seemed to get her attention. “Miss Jones is listening,” she said.

Then, out of nowhere, Kurt found himself confessing. “I-I want to audition, I’m a-a nobody, you know? I don’t know what song to sing. I don’t know what to do with my hands when I’m singing.” He chuckled dryly at himself. “I don’t know how to move all cool, like...like you do, because...because you’re you, and, well, I’m-I’m...this.” He shrugged. He knew he wasn’t anything spectacular, but he had to try, he supposed. His dad had asked him to. “Inside, I’m-I’m more,” he ended lamely. 

“Okay. I will help,” Mercedes told him. Again, Kurt’s heart skipped in his chest. Maybe Mercedes was the friend he’d been waiting for.

“First tip: you have an incredibly loud fashion sense,” she said, making Kurt wince.

He’d always been proud of his clothes. They gave him a sense of self-worth, and he loved that they were a way for him to express himself without really expressing. Now she was going to tell him that he needed to stop, that he’d never fit in with the Glee Club unless he fit in with his peers, too. To his surprise, she didn’t say that. Instead, she came at it from a new angle.

“It’s time for your attitude to match your outfits.”

“I guess I just feel safer if I let all the clothes do the talking. In a way, it lets me feel invisible.”  _ Probably not something you should mention to a potential new friend, Kurt, _ he chided himself, completely missing the end of what Mercedes said. The next thing he knew, she was passing him a slip of paper.

“That’s the song you’re going to sing.”

When he unfolded it and read the title she’d written down, his smile grew wide.  _ Mr. Cellophane  _ from  _ Chicago _ . “It’s perfect.”

That afternoon, after school, with very little practice time under his belt, Kurt took the stage to audition for Glee Club. Despite being completely nervous to the point that his hands trembled as he took the stage, his voice was loud and strong when he spoke. “Hello. I’m Kurt Hummel, and I’ll be singing  _ Mr. Cellophane _ .” The notes floated out of his mouth perfectly, and by the time he was finished, he felt an overwhelming surge of pride. He’d done it. He’d auditioned. He’d sung in front of people, an idea that had seemed terrifying not that many days before. He got an even bigger rush when Mr. Schue said that he was accepted and they’d start practice the next day. He bounced off the stage, grabbed his backpack, and headed straight for the doors. He had to tell his dad.

When he flounced into the shop, Hummel Tires and Lube, his dad was busy changing a tire. “Hey, Dad!” he said anyway, skipping over. “I did it!”

“Huh?”

“I joined a team.” He beamed, hoping his dad would be proud.

“Hey, hey! All right! There we go, Kurt! Which one?”

He sighed, a dreamy look on his face. “The Glee Club.”

“What’s Glee Club?”

“It’s amazing! We-we sing and dance and--”

“Look, uh, Kurt…” Burt Hummel said, watching as his son’s smile instantly fell. “It’s not like I got a problem with it. I’m all for singing and dancing, but the point of this was for you to feel what it’s like to bond over a shared goal.” He didn’t want to mention the nasty “d” word, depression, when any one of his employees could over here, and he was pretty sure that Kurt knew what he meant.

“Well, Glee Club is-is kinda like that,” Kurt said, hoping to defend his choice at least a little. “At the end of the term, we-we perform at this big competition in front of an audience. Against other schools, you know?”

Burt raised an eyebrow. “So, it really is like a sports team?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Uh, kind of.” Kurt considered not finishing his thought. It was only going to lead to more explanation, but when his dad opened his mouth to question what he meant, he hurried to add, “E-except with choreography and Beyoncé.”

Furrowing his brow, Burt asked, “Who’s Beyoncé? She one of the girls on the team?”

Kurt sighed. “No, Dad. She’s, like, the biggest pop star in the world.”

“Oh.” Burt wasn’t sure what to say. It was obvious Kurt was excited about this new club; it just wasn’t what he’d imagined.

“I mean, we-we could use a-a strong male lead…” Kurt added, thinking about the sign-up sheet. If it was truly only him, Rachel, and Mercedes, they would definitely need someone who could sing bass notes. “But, I really think it’s-it’s gonna be something special.”  _ At least I hope,  _ he thought but didn’t add.

“Okay,” Burt said, nodding. “Okay. Good. Good.” It almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “This is good. I still think it’d do you good to be part of a real sports team, but...well, you seem happy.” 

“Honestly, Dad, I don’t think I’ve ever been this genuinely excited to go to school,” he admitted, realizing that he really did feel that way. He had no idea what Glee Club was going to be like, but he was excited to find out. “Thanks for pushing me to do this.”

Burt smiled at his son, going back to what he was doing. “Thanks for showing up for yourself.” 

For a moment, Kurt considered coming out as gay to his dad right then and there. They were being so open and honest with one another; there was a connection that hadn’t been there much since his mom passed away. But just as he was about to open his mouth to say something, someone called for Burt’s attention, ending the moment. 

“We good?” Burt asked, turning to deal with whatever situation had just come up.

“Yeah...yeah. We’re good. I’ll go home and get started on dinner.”

“Okay,” Burt said, walking away.

Kurt’s excitement for Glee Club was short-lived. In a matter of a few days, Rachel and Mercedes were at each other’s throats, there was fighting over whether or not Finn, one of the most popular ( _ and attractive _ ) boys on the football team who occasionally joined his friends in harassing and bullying Kurt, should be allowed to stay in the Club, and Rachel made herself into the self-appointed Queen Bee very quickly, demanding that she be given all the solos to “set a precedent.” On top of all that, Mr. Schue was stuck in the past, itching to relive his glory days in the Glee Club and was trying to force them to sing songs that were popular when he was performing. With only six kids in the club, nothing sounded good. By the end of his first week, Kurt was beginning to question whether or not he’d made the right choice when he joined Glee Club. At least his dad hadn’t taken his sewing machine away. 

On Friday night, Kurt again logged into the bullying support group page that Ms. Pillsbury had given him. The bullying hadn’t been any worse that week than before. There were still daily locker checks, nearly daily slushie facials, and there were gay slurs and all other manner of names thrown in his direction whenever he walked down the halls. But, that stress on top of the Glee Club stress made him feel like he needed to talk to someone. And, since he still hadn’t really made a friend, he had nowhere to turn but the website.

He spent the first several minutes looking at some of the other posts. There were several accounts making posts, asking questions about how to deal with a bully that was harassing them, the best place to get homework help when they didn’t feel comfortable talking to a teacher, or how to tell their parents they were feeling depressed. It seemed that there was one account that was really active, someone going by the name C.O.U.R.A.G.E. This person had answered almost every post made, and they seemed to have good advice. At least, it was advice that Kurt could see himself taking if he was in the poster’s position.

Finally, after several minutes of arguing with himself over whether or not he should post or not, Kurt finally clicked on the blue words at the top of the page, “New Post.” A little box popped up on his screen. There were two boxes, one indicating his username, Pip.Pip.Hooray!, and one where he could type his message.

With trembling fingers, began to type his message.

_ “Hi. I’m a sophomore, and I just joined our school’s Glee Club. I only joined because my dad said I had to join a club, but I was really hoping to make some friends. However, I’m finding the other kids in the club very difficult to get along with, and I’m tired of feeling lonely. I’m pretty shy and nervous. What should I do? _ ”

He quickly pressed the “Submit” button before he could lose his nerve. Then, he immediately logged out of the program and shut down his computer. That was enough for today. Maybe he’d see if anyone responded tomorrow.


	6. Chapter 6

The first few days of Glee Club following their, apparently, breakthrough rendition of  _ Don't Stop Believing _ were...interesting. That was the best way Kurt could think of to describe it. They’d had several new editions to the Club: three Cheerios whom he suspected were probably there to spy on them for their crazy coach, Sue Sylvester, and three new football players, at least one of whom regularly joined Karofsky in tossing him into the lockers, tripping him, and shoving him to the ground. These new editions made it difficult for him to want to be in Glee, and three days after he’d made his post on the anti-bullying website, he finally decided to check it. 

He’d been far too nervous to check it before. What if no one had commented on it because they didn’t have any advice for his situation? What if someone had commented on it? What would he say back? Or, worse, what if someone had commented just to make fun of him and bully him because the website was actually for bullies instead of victims? 

With all these questions swirling in his head, it was difficult for Kurt to make time to check his post. There was always something better for him to be doing at the time. However, after one particularly harrowing day in Glee Club with Rachel, he decided to check it that night when he got home. 

Sitting down in front of his computer, he quickly navigated to the site, providing his login information. The first thing he noticed was that there was a big red “1” beside the word “Messages” at the top of his screen. The next was that his post was no longer the first one. In fact, there were several posts that had been made since he’d last been on the site, and he had to scroll quite a ways to find the new message. And, yes, there were a few replies. He read each of them carefully. 

From  **_notaweirdo_ ** :  _ Chin up. Things won’t be this bad forever! _

From  **_DontTellMeICantSing_ ** :  _ Join a new club! There’s a spot for everyone. _

From  **_OutAndProud_ ** :  _ Start your own club! Make it what you want. _

From **_C.O.U.R.A.G.E._** : _Hi,_ **_Pip.Pip.Hooray!_** _I had a similar problem at my old school. It was hard to make friends because I didn’t fit in with most of my peers. Just be yourself. If they don’t like you as you are, you shouldn’t be friends with them._

From  **_MeetMe_ ** :  _ I don’t have any advice, but I wanted to say, “Hi!” and welcome to the site. Maybe you can find a friend here. :) _

Kurt smiled as he read through the comments. It seemed as though everyone here was very friendly. It didn’t really help him to know what to say, but it was a relief no one had been rude to him. Sighing, he decided he should probably respond and thank them for their kind comments.

From  **_Pip.Pip.Hooray!_ ** :  _ Thank you, everyone, for your kind comments. A few new kids have joined the Club, and they’re making it more difficult for me to enjoy Glee Club. I think I might need to find a new one. _

After hitting send, Kurt wasn’t sure what to do. He was afraid to check his messages, but he was also very curious. What could someone want to talk to him about? Was it someone offering advice or being a jerk?

In an attempt to avoid checking the messages, Kurt read through a few posts from the main page. It was kind of interesting to read about other people’s problems. It seemed that a lot of kids had trouble finding someone to be friends with or finding a group where they were accepted. There were a few kids on there asking about how to come out to their parents or peers at school, and Kurt made sure to read those thoroughly, including the comments about others’ experiences. He was barely admitting to himself that he thought he was gay, and he was nowhere near ready to tell anyone, especially not his dad or his classmates. However, it was helpful to know that there were some people who didn’t have a bad coming out experience.

There was one other thing that stuck out at Kurt as he read through some of the posts:  **_C.O.U.R.A.G.E._ ** , whoever that was, responded to posts. A lot. Nearly all of them. It wasn’t that  **_C.O.U.R.A.G.E._ ** had a lot of helpful advice, but they always had a positive and encouraging thing to say on the post, even if they had no advice to offer.  **_C.O.U.R.A.G.E._ ** did have a lot of advice when it came to coming out, though. They made long comments on those posts, detailing their story in coming out to their parents and brother as well as their classmates and the subsequent beating they’d received from a group of bullies at school, resulting in a school transfer. Somehow, despite all that,  **_C.O.U.R.A.G.E._ ** believed that coming out had been a positive experience for them and suggested talking to each parent separately, a good way to focus only on the person and answer any questions that they might have. Kurt thought this might be good advice and stored it away in the back of his mind for later. He didn’t have a mom to tell, but at least, if he ever chose to come out of the closet, he’d know to tell everyone he cared about separately. Maybe he’d never have to come out, though.  _ I do a pretty good job of hiding myself _ , he thought.

Finally, after putting it off for as long as he could, Kurt decided to go ahead and check his messages. He assumed that, if the message was from a bully that had sneaked onto the site, he could just delete the message. He would, of course, never post again, just in case it was one of the bullies at his school, but he could at least read other posts, even if he never typed another word onto the website.

So, Kurt clicked on the word “Messages” next to the bright red “1” at the top of his screen, holding his breath as he waited for the page to load. When the message popped up, he was pleasantly surprised to discover that it was from  **_C.O.U.R.A.G.E._ ** Clicking into it, he read the message.

_ Hi,  _ **_Pip.Pip.Hooray!_ ** _ I also commented on your post, but I wanted to send you a message to let you know that, if you’d like someone to talk to, I’d be happy to chat with you. It seems like you and I have similar stories, and I know it can be helpful to talk with someone who understands what you’re going through without a lengthy explanation. So, if you’d like to chat about making friends or just start a friendship here, I’m happy to chat with you. I check this site often, so if you message me here, I’ll probably see it within a day. If you don’t choose to chat with me, I understand. Not fitting in is a sensitive topic, and it can be hard to talk about. I just thought I’d offer. Anyway, have a great day, and I hope I’ll hear from you soon! _

Kurt couldn’t help but smile as he read through the message a second time. Whomever this was seemed to be really sweet and thoughtful. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to start up a conversation with them. He could tell them as much or as little as he wanted, and if they chose to never speak to him again, at least he’d never have to worry about running into them. They probably lived a long way off, anyway.

Quickly, Kurt typed back a short message.  _ Hi,  _ **_C.O.U.R.A.G.E._ ** _ Thank you for messaging me. I think it could be fun to chat. How were you finally able to make friends? Do you belong to a Glee Club? _

For a split second, Kurt wondered if **_C.O.U.R.A.G.E._** was online right then, and he sat staring at his screen, waiting to see if a message would pop up. Then, he chickened out, closing the tab quickly to avoid getting a message from them right away. He’d give it a few days and check again. He didn’t need that much pressure.

Turning on his stereo, he sat down behind his sewing machine to put the finishing touches on a sweater he’d been working on. He wanted to show it to Mercedes the next day. They were going to spy on Dakota Stanley, a top choreographer that was currently working with the dreaded Vocal Adrenaline team, and he’d told Mercedes that “every moment of your life is an opportunity for fashion.” He didn’t want to disappoint her, especially after they’d found her a rockin’ pair of overalls at the mall that day. Of all the kids in Glee, he was growing closest to her, and he felt that maybe, if he could move past her loud tendencies and her desire to constantly be front and center, he could be close friends with Mercedes. Maybe. And, one way to do that would be to impress her with his fashion sense.

The next day, when he rolled up to the front of the school where Dakota Stanley was coaching Vocal Adrenaline, Mercedes was already there, walking in beside the girls from the Cheerios he didn’t know well and Rachel Berry. If Kurt had once thought he could be friends with Rachel, he knew now that no one could truly be her friend; she didn’t want friends, just people she could use to get her further ahead in life. She’d tried that with him already, and he didn’t want a repeat.

“Damn, Kurt! Your car is fly!” Mercedes said as he stepped out of the car, dawning a pair of sunglasses that went well with his sweater, fitted jeans, and hat.

He smiled at her. “Thanks. My dad got it for me when I promised to stop wearing form-fitting sweaters that stop at the knee.” He watched as Mercedes’ gaze traveled down to his knees which were, consequently, where he’d made this sweater stop. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Kurt supplied with a smile, stepping up next to her and accepting her arm linked through his. As they walked into the school, they traded quips about their adventure at the mall the day before, giggling despite their classmates’ constant shushing. It was nice, he realized, to have someone to share stories with. Maybe his plan was working. Maybe he’d finally found a friend.

The following day after school, Kurt was amped up. They were doing a car wash to raise money to pay for Dakota Stanley’s services. The short, loud man had told them the night before, after their spying venture, that he would help them… for $8,000 per number and a $10,000 bonus if they placed in the top three in their next competition. The whole thing seemed far too expensive to Kurt, and he didn’t really understand why Rachel wouldn’t just grovel to get Mr. Schue back; but he was playing along with it, especially since Rachel had agreed that he and Mercedes could wash his Navigator for free in order to draw more people in. 

The car wash wasn’t really why he was excited, though. No, he was excited because the day before, while they were supposed to be spying on Dakota, Mercedes had made plans with him to attend a sing-along of  _ The Sound of Music  _ that was showing at one of the local theaters. His first date with a real friend! Kurt couldn’t believe it! It was all he could think about during school that day. He knew it was a silly thing to be excited about, but he couldn’t help it. Finally, someone liked him for who he was. Finally, he didn’t feel like an outsider. He finally, finally belonged.

The car wash was fun, too. Normally, that was not the type of thing Kurt would find himself being excited about, however, when it came to his car, his baby, he was a bit obsessive. When his father had given him the car, he’d felt like he’d finally made a breakthrough with him. His dad had been all grins and excitement, eager to show Kurt the car he’d gotten for him, and Kurt had been all smiles and clapping hands as his dad had walked him around the car. It had felt like they were bonding, truly getting to know one another better in those few minutes in the driveway, and Kurt was dedicated to keeping his dad happy when it came to the car. So, he and Mercedes were being quite thorough, wiping and polishing areas several times before he was satisfied. It didn’t take Mercedes long to become exhausted with this, however.

Straightening up with a long sigh, she said, “Your rims are clean. We’ve polished them, like, three times already.”

Kurt wasn’t really listening to her. Polishing the car was soothing, and he was thinking about their date that evening. “Did you bring a change of clothes?” he asked her instead. “Because we’re going straight to the sing-along Sound of Music.”

Mercedes smiled at that, sighing again, and leaned against his car with a dreamy look on her face.

_ I’m so glad she loves The Sound of Music as much as I do, _ Kurt thought as he watched her for a moment.  _ I hope this is always what it’s like to have a friend. _

“So, listen, Kurt,” Mercedes said.

Feeling his heart leap into his throat, and he swallowed hard. Was she about to tell him she didn’t want to be friends anymore?

“This is like the third time we’ve gone out. Can we just make it official?”

Kurt stared at her as though she was dumb. Inside, his mind was racing 100 miles an hour, trying to pinpoint exactly what she was talking about. Yes, this would be the third time they’d hung out if they counted both the mall and the Dakota Stanley stakeout. Was there something they’d discussed that they hadn’t made official? When his brain came up blank, he finally asked, “Make what official?”

A grin grew wider on Mercedes’ face. “You know… That we’re dating!”

Now his stomach was in the souls of his feet, and his heart was pounding like a hammer in his chest. “I’m sorry, Mercedes,” he said, trying to make himself sound as confident as he could. He didn’t need her to know that she’d completely shattered his hopes with one sentence. His gaze traveled around in a frenzy and landed on Rachel who was doing…something…beside a different vehicle. The words tumbled out before he really knew what was happening. “But I thought I made it very clear. I’m in love with someone else.”

Turning, Mercedes followed his gaze, also landing on Rachel who was still doing…something. “Rachel?” she questioned, turning to look at him again with a look that he couldn’t quite read.

Unsure how to respond, Kurt opened his mouth, and his body worked on autopilot. “Yes. For several years now.”  _ What??? _ he yelled at himself.  _ What are you saying? You don’t even like Rachel! _ Before he really knew what had happened, however, there was a loud crash that brought him back to reality. Mercedes had thrown a massive rock through his windshield!

It took Kurt a moment to really regain his senses. That was not at all what he’d been expecting, and there was a mixture of concern, fear, and anger coursing through him that made finding words difficult. It was obvious that he’d hurt Mercedes’ feelings, and, if her scowl and hand-on-hip stance was anything to go by, he probably no longer had a friend in her. Was she going to yell at him? Beat him up? Furthermore, what was he going to tell his dad? Burt Hummel was sure to be pissed, and Kurt really didn’t want to deal with that. Finally, his anger won out.

“You busted my window. How could you do that? You busted my window!”

Mercedes turned her best snarky gaze on him. “Well, you busted my heart.”

Kurt knew that he looked like a fish. He knew he should stop opening and closing his mouth, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t believe that Mercedes, someone he thought was going to be a good friend to him, would do something like this. “I-I’ve got to go,” he finally said. He opened the door and, standing on the running board, he carefully brushed the glass off his seat. Then, he started his car and peeled out of the parking lot, making a beeline for his dad’s shop. He really didn’t want him to know about the incident, but he didn’t know where else to turn. And, this wasn’t really something he  _ could _ hide from his dad.

“Dad! Dad!” Kurt yelled when he got to the shop. He jumped out of the car, running into the shop, hollering for his father at the top of his lungs.

“Kurt?” Burt asked, sticking his head out of his office door. “Are you okay, kid? You hurt?”

“No, I-I’m fine. It-it’s my car. It’s not okay.”

Burt wrinkled his brow. “What happened? Did you get into an accident? How did you get here?”

“Well, it wasn’t really an accident,” Kurt answered. “I, um… Well, Mercedes threw a rock through the front window.”

“She did what?” Burt bellowed, opening the door all the way, so he could step out and look his son fully in the face. “Why?”

“I…may have broken her heart,” Kurt admitted softly, studying the floor. He did feel bad that Mercedes had felt lead on. He really hadn’t meant to. He was doing his best to hide, but it had been too much fun when he thought he’d found a true friend. That was his mistake, he guessed. He was probably better off without a friend.

Burt didn’t really know what to think of his son’s statement. “Let me see,” he said instead, deciding to view the damage before he passed any judgment. Truth be told, there was something he’d wanted to talk to Kurt about, and he hadn’t yet found the right time. Maybe this would be just the window he’d been looking for.

Reluctantly, Kurt led his dad out to his car, standing sadly off to the side as Burt muttered, cussed, and generally expressed himself about the damage done to his son’s car. He did comment on the wash job, though. “Did you just get it cleaned?” he asked, walking around the whole thing to inspect for other damage. “It looks real shiny.”

“Um, yeah. Mercedes and I were polishing it at the school carwash when I told her we couldn’t date.”

Burt sighed. “About that, kid.” He took his hat off his head, running one rough hand over his balding scalp. “I went into your room the other day after you left for school, and I found your collection of little crowns in your cedar chest that your grandfather built for you.”

Kurt gulped.  _ Damn it. I thought I’d hit those better _ , he thought to himself. “I-I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I-I…”

“Don’t try to explain it, kid. I’m sure you had a good reason for buying those, even though I have no idea what the frick it could be. I’m not really mad about the fact that you have them so much as I’m pretty sure this means you’ve been using the emergency credit card I gave you for things that are  _ not  _ emergencies.”

“Yeah…”

“At least he’s honest,” Burt muttered under his breath. “Thank you for telling me,” he said loudly enough that Kurt could hear. “So, we’ll leave your car here, I’ll order a new windshield for it, and we’ll get it installed. Then, once it’s drivable again, your grounding from your car starts. Two weeks. Got it?”

Kurt nodded. “I understand.”

“Please try to keep your spending habits under control. Okay, kid?” Burt said. He didn’t feel like it was enough. There was such a huge disconnect between himself and his son, and if he was being honest, he hated it. He missed what it had been like between them when his wife was alive. Sure, he’d had to participate in tea parties that made him a little uncomfortable, and he’d had his nails and hair done countless times, but at least they’d been close. Kurt had come to him with small problems as well as big ones. He’d asked for Burt to read him stories, play with him, and come to his ballet recitals. Once Elizabeth had passed away, though, that had stopped, and the longer she’d been gone, the more strained their relationship had become. It seemed almost foreign to him that his son had come to him for help with his car situation. Maybe he shouldn’t have used it as an opportunity to punish him for his credit card use.  _ Elizabeth would know what to do _ , Burt thought with another sigh.  _ I wish she was here. _

“I will, Dad,” Kurt said, looking at the floor again.

“Good. Uh, I’m almost done here. Just a couple more things to get done. Then, I’ll take you home.”

“Kay, Dad.”

That night, after dinner, Kurt sat down in front of his computer. He hadn’t intended to check his messages on the anti-bullying website, but he was feeling lonely and incredibly sad. Maybe  **_C.O.U.R.A.G.E._ ** had sent him a new message or maybe there would be a post with some advice. He didn’t know exactly what he was hoping for, but Kurt had an innate feeling that somehow, this website would help.

When he logged into his account, there was another red “1” next to the word “Messages” at the top of the screen. He didn’t even bother to scroll through the new posts. Instead, he clicked on his messages, happy to see that the response was, in fact, from  **_C.O.U.R.A.G.E._ **

_ Hi! I’m so glad you decided to message me back!  _ the message said.  _ To answer your question, I am in a Glee Club. I’m actually a freshman at my school, and our Glee Club is very prestigious. They hold tryouts for their group to even get in as well as tryouts for their lead soloist. Even though I’m a freshman, I was actually just selected to be the lead soloist for our first competition. That doesn’t usually happen. I thought that would help me make friends, but it’s actually made things a lot harder. I do have one good friend, though. I’d like to say that I have some very wise advice for you, but I think that you really do just have to be true to yourself. Don’t try to hide, and don’t be afraid for anyone to see you as the awesome person I’m sure you are. I hope that helps. Tell me about your Glee Club! Hope to hear from you soon! _

Taking a deep breath, Kurt sent back a response:  _ I’m not sure being myself will help. I was trying to do that, and I thought I’d finally gained some ground with one of the girls in my Glee Club. But now, she’s mad at me because I told her I’m not interested in dating her. She even threw a rock through my car window. Anyway, my Glee Club is kind of a fresh start-up. I mean, our school has always had one, but a real weirdo used to run it until he was booted out for being inappropriate with one of his male students. Now, the Spanish teacher has taken it over, but he’s totally in love with the talent of one of the most annoying girls in the school as well as the quarterback of the football team. I don’t have much of a chance at getting any solos or anything. Do you think I should quit?  _ Kurt’s hands hovered above the keys, unsure if he should say the last thing that he was thinking or not. Had he been talking to this person face to face, there’s no way he ever would have mentioned it. But… this person didn’t know his name. That feeling finally won over.  _ Thanks for talking with me _ , he wrote.  _ I really feel like we might be able to become friends.  _ He quickly hit send and signed off. He was exhausted, and now seemed like a great time to go to bed. He could lay in bed and listen to music for a while until he drifted off.

The next day, before school started, Mercedes approached Kurt at his locker. “Hey, Kurt. I just wanted to say I’m really sorry I did that to your car. I’ll pay for it to get fixed.” She did look really sorry, and she wouldn’t even meet his gaze as she leaned against the lockers next to his.

Kurt took a bit of pity on her. Just a bit. “It’s okay,” he said. “My dad took my baby away after he found my tiara collection in my hope chest.”

There was a moment of awkward silence where Mercedes didn’t know what to say and Kurt really wanted to walk away from the situation altogether. Finally, Mercedes broke the silence. “And, I just wanted to say I hope it works out between you and Rachel. You’ll have really cute, loud babies.”

“Mercedes…” Kurt said, sighing. A line from  **_C.O.U.R.A.G.E._ ** popped into his head suddenly.  _ Don’t try to hide, and don’t be afraid for anyone to see you as the awesome person I’m sure you are. _ That brought him some strength—courage, he later decided—and, for the first time, he decided to go with the whole, not at all skewed truth. “I lied to you. I don’t like Rachel. I’m…gay…” It felt amazing and scary to say it out loud, and the emotions were overwhelming. Really, he realized, not only had he just come out to someone publicly, but he’d come out to himself. He really hoped Mercedes would say something to stop him from feeling like he’d just made a complete and utter fool of himself.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” she asked, looking confused.

“Because I’ve never told anyone before,” he admitted.  _ Not even myself _ .

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of who you are, Kurt,” Mercedes said, smiling at him. “You should just tell people, especially the kids in Glee. The whole point of the club is about expressing what’s really inside you, remember?” She looked like she’d really like to pull Kurt into a hug, but he was folding in on himself a little bit, and she didn’t want to make him more uncomfortable.

Kurt shook his head sadly. “I can’t. I’m just not that confident, I guess.”

At this, Mercedes did take his arm, leading him down the hallway in the direction of their first class which, consequently, they shared with one another. “Well, I’m glad you told me,” she admitted. “I really do want to be friends with you, Kurt. I think you’re sweet and cool, and you have a fantastic fashion sense.”

Smiling a bit, Kurt said, “I’d like to be friends, too. But… Did I lead you on? Did I make you think I was in love with you?”

Mercedes shook her head. “No. Rachel and Tina tried to tell me you were gay, but I wanted to believe that we were at least friends so much that I let it go too far in my head. It wasn’t your fault at all, Kurt. It was all me.”

“Do you still want to go to the sing-along of  _ The Sound of Music _ ?” Kurt asked with a grin, pausing outside their classroom. “They’re showing it again tomorrow night.”

“You’d still go with me?” Mercedes asked. “Even though I damaged your car?”

“Of course! As long as you’re okay with my dad driving us there. I, obviously, can’t drive right now.”

“Sounds great!” Mercedes replied. She squealed a little, hopping up and down for a moment before pulling Kurt into a tight hug. “I’m so glad we’re friends!”

“Me, too,” Kurt replied. “Me, too.”

That night, Kurt logged into the anti-bullying site again. As he’d expected, he had a new message from  **_C.O.U.R.A.G.E._ ** He was surprised to admit to himself that he was now looking forward to checking the website every evening. Sure, he and  **_C.O.U.R.A.G.E._ ** had only shared a few messages so far, but after reading their responses to many of the posts on the site, he felt like they could become good friends.

_ I’m sorry you’re having trouble with someone you thought was your friend,  _ **_C.O.U.R.A.G.E._ ** had written.  _ Someone will come through for you, and you’ll have a great friendship with them. Meanwhile, you’ve got me, and I hope we’ll keep being friends even after you get a friend in real life. PLEASE don’t quit Glee Club! I know it’s hard to stay when you’re sure you’re not going to get everything out of the club you’d hoped. But maybe the quarterback will have to quit because he’s too busy or the annoying girl will quit because she finds a better opportunity. If you enjoy singing, you should stick with it, at least for a little while. Do you feel comfortable telling me a little more about yourself? I know we’re not allowed to share real personal info like names, birthdays, and where we live, but I’d like to get to know you,  _ **_Pip.Pip.Hooray!_ **

Kurt smiled. He’d been right.  **_C.O.U.R.A.G.E._ ** was a nice person. So, he wrote back:  _ I think I actually got my friend back today. I took your advice about being myself, and it worked.  _ He swallowed hard, preparing himself for what he was about to do. Today, he had courage. He knew he might not the next time he got on the website.  _ I actually told her that I’m gay, my first time coming out to anyone at all, including myself. Any advice on how to handle that? _ Kurt chuckled dryly to himself. He felt needy constantly asking for advice, but he didn’t know where else to turn. He didn’t know anyone else like him, friendless or gay either one.  _ I’d love to tell you about myself! I’m a sophomore in high school, and I live with my dad. I’m writing a musical. The title is actually my username on here, and I love fashion. I make my own clothes sometimes. What are some interesting facts about you? _

Then, Kurt signed off. Maybe someday he’d have the courage to stay on the site and see if they could chat in something that resembled real-time. He just wasn’t quite ready for that yet.


End file.
